


if it's fine by you

by buvky



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Depression, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-26 18:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18722971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buvky/pseuds/buvky
Summary: endgame au where bruce doesn't fuck off to gamma lab but accompanies thor to new asgard instead. a fix-it of sorts. don't think i can do worse than markus & mcfeely, but judge for yourself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i, an english major, have no idea how commas in this language work (unbeta'd)

 

The short journey back to the Compound is accompanied by dead silence and averted eyes. Once they land, they remind themselves to look straight ahead, but not even then their collective gaze holds any sense of clear direction. Future. Hope.

Tony is nowhere to be seen. He faintly hears Steve, Nat, and Carol talking… strategy? Exchanging contacts? His eyes are trained on a single person in that room.

Had the situation been much lighter and appropriate, he would probably be amazed how a towering god looked smaller than a raccoon at that moment. It could be funny.

Seeing the spark in his eyes fade out. It could be poetic.

He doesn't want to spread himself too thin again. He doesn't want to be everywhere at once, brainstorm possibilities, lose even more sleep and he sure as hell isn't the kind of person to try and convince others to stick together. Because from where they are standing, Tony was right. No options. No clues. Nothing.

And in that moment, he realizes there is only one thing that he wants to do. That matters. So, he crosses the space, continues to ignore the ongoing conversation. He comes up to Thor and takes one of his hands.

“Let me help.” _I don't know if whatever I'm offering could ever be enough,_ he thinks _. No time for self-deprecating jokes now, though. At least the ones said out loud._

“I'm leaving for New Asgard,” he replies, as if he had been rehearsing this sentence in his head on their way back, just in case someone tries to reach out.

“I'll come with you.” Bruce's voice is soft, but resolute. There is no change in Thor's expression, but he likes to imagine he sees the tinniest _thank you_ in there. Maybe he hallucinates a little nod.

It could be alright?

 

* * *

 

They don't speak on their way. Bruce realizes he has no idea what he's doing. He doesn't want to take it back either.

He won't let him withdraw from the rest of the world. After all, Thor didn't let Bruce do that, back on Sakaar. It goes beyond wanting to repay a debt or owing to one another. Or maybe it is just that, and, hey, maybe they should focus on simple things that make sense. It's the only meaningful thing he feels he can do right now. Or it's just another sick little project, an experiment of his. Either way, he's coming through. He'll try. For both of them.

 

* * *

 

There's no welcome committee upon their arrival. The Asgardians are absorbed in their work. A few turn their heads, as they walk past, to no avail. They understand. Perhaps resent. The two of them make the hike towards Thor's cottage. Like all the other ones, it has been put together quickly. No time for details could be spared, only basic necessities. Small kitchen space connected to the living room, a bedroom, and a bathroom. _Simple things_ , Bruce reminds himself. It's more than enough. For himself, that is. He's quite minimalistic. For Thor, however, this must seem claustrophobic, if nothing else.

They haven't spoken a word since Bruce's insisting on coming along. He wasn't sure about the exact arrangement, but he figured crashing on Thor's couch is going to work for a while. If things were different, that statement could be amusing. Thor didn't seem to mind. Didn't seem to process what was going on, really. He made a beeline for the bedroom, closed the door and left Bruce alone with his thoughts. _I'm going to give him some space. For now. Which means I also have space. Good, that's good. We need space... Space._ There was something on the edges waiting to be spilled over.

 

* * *

 

 _Routine. He needs a routine. I need a routine._ Bruce knows he's not this kind of a doctor, but he trusts his limited skills over leaving Thor to his own devices. For a moment he feels disgusted with himself, for trying to approach this so clinically, sounding condescending, like he knows better. In reality, he's been looking through medical journals saved on his tablet and searching for anything even remotely helpful. _Sick little project indeed. How do you rebuild a god?_

He checks the fridge and the cabinets. There is not nearly enough food to feed one human, let alone an Asgardian. He makes a note to himself to venture to the small market set up near the docks. Then he remembers he doesn't really know how it works around here, thinks Brunnhilde may be able to help. He'll ask if he can make himself useful and try to make Thor tag along. Simple solutions are often the most elegant. He knows it's not as easy as that. It’s a start. _It's a concept at best._

 

* * *

 

It takes some effort, but for the most part, it seems to work. Bruce wakes up, makes breakfast and sure enough, shortly after it's finished, Thor comes trudging into the kitchen. They eat. Then they go out and assist wherever help is needed. Since the Hulk still refuses to come out, they are in fact doing one man's job. Bruce instructs and helps when he can. Thor listens and works. He has (temporarily?) yielded the king's duties to Brunnhilde. Bruce regards this as a wise step. Not that his opinion would matter. Thor has not explicitly stated as such anyway. She's a natural leader. She can relate to Thor. Unfortunately, her obligations leave her little to no time to reconnect. Other Asgardians are still preoccupied. Settling. Mourning. There's not enough of them who would care to question their king's actions in these times. _Little mercies._

There are days when Thor isn't capable of getting up.

There are days and nights when Bruce hears silent whimpers from his room. At first, he's quite lost and doesn't know what to do. At first, he leaves him alone, not wanting to overstep any boundaries, personal space, or make him feel embarrassed, though he feels he already does all that just by being there. _This is about him, not you._ Lately, when he hears the sounds, he knocks on the door and asks if it's okay to stay. He doesn't question what brought it on. He knows, in general, and that is enough. Sometimes he holds his hand. Sometimes he talks about little, unimportant things. Thor doesn't speak.

There are days when Bruce feels invisible. No, he wishes he was invisible. Then he couldn't account for screwing up things by his presence even more. But this is on him. On better days, he blames himself to be the victim of the undying, foolish human optimism.

 _There's a routine, alright?_ Even to Thor's movements. Automated, he carries himself like a ghost.

It's almost been a year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to obliterate me in the comments i don't know what i'm doing 90% of the time


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> didn't plan to update until later this week but all your lovely comments got me, enjoy <3

New Asgard is slowly progressing. No one dares to say thriving, that would be too bold. Untrue. But it’s coming along. Asgardians are sturdy folk. And they keep their sorrows private.  
There’s always work to be done, a family to help. _What’s left of it_. It’s been harder to get Thor involved in the past few weeks. Bruce doesn’t pressure him. He knows he’s not really fit for what he cut out for himself and keeps trying anyway. At least it gives him an updated overview of his own weaknesses and failures. The cottage is not interrupted by any sounds anymore. Thor sleeps for long periods of time. Bruce realizes he was sitting around waiting, _no, praying,_ for some sort of breakdown, or, a breakthrough, if he’s being a complete idiot. Despite knowing the odds.

 

* * *

 

He starts to think it’s possible both of them are growing catatonic. Maybe it’s the monotony. The never changing grey of the sky, where blue should be. He speculates that if they were to sail or cross the borders of the town, they would get caught up in the fog seen from the distance. He theorizes there is no more of Earth beyond a certain point. _Of course_ , this _is_ the only thing left that hasn’t been snapped away. Because if it was supposed to be balanced, then they all would feel at peace, right? It makes sense. They are stuck here. Floating. No coordinates.

 

* * *

 

Thor refuses to see anyone aside from Bruce. Or he just doesn’t really register him there. _Invisible. Maybe I’m developing a new superpower._ The only proof of his physical presence is the Thor-shaped shadow following him around on his evening walks. It’s a weird non-verbal agreement they seemed to have worked out. _“Don’t drag me out in the day, I can’t stand the looks. Not anymore.”_ he imagines Thor says. Recently he always finds him waiting by the door. Bruce lets him take the lead.

 

* * *

 

They stop near the edge of a plain overlooking the sea. The fog is out there, but so are the strange lights in the sky. They don’t make sense. Too far to reach. Unlikely.  
He hears a hoarse voice.

  
“That’s Odin’s wagon,” Thor says, looking up. Bruce follows his line of sight. After a pause, he continues, “I think it’s known to your kind as Ursa Major.”

  
Their eyes meet and Bruce says, pleading, “I’m sorry.”

  
Thor almost imperceptibly shakes his head and whispers, “No.” _Acceptance_. Maybe this time they can really start to forgive themselves. Bruce finds he, stupidly, made no effort for himself in the first place. _How do you rebuild a human?_  
Towards the end of the second year, he will realize he was waiting for his own breakdown. Nothing will happen. Something happens tonight. They walk back, whilst talking about the stars. _Stars_. The fog is lifting.

 

* * *

 

Thor doesn’t venture out in daylight for a long time. He keeps himself busy, though. Bruce gets supplies. Thor dutifully puts each item into its’ designated place. They cook together, unbothered by the lack of kitchen space and the fact it wasn’t designed to handle two people moving around at once. He rearranges the books they have collected between themselves. It started with Bruce driving to the nearest town with a proper library, then second-hand bookshops. He was surprised to see _so much of Earth_. They spend their afternoons on the sofa, Thor reading to Bruce. Most of the books are in Norwegian, but when Thor reads it, he understands. Thor tries to explain Allspeak.  
Bruce picks up _Hobbiten, eller Fram og tilbake igjen_ on a whim once. Thor finds it, for whatever reason, amusing.  
There are suddenly moments in between certain passages and pages when they sneak a look at each other, followed by soft smiles. At first, it catches them off-guard, as if it’s something forbidden they will get reprimanded for. Sometimes they let out a quiet laugh. _Unheard of_. Bruce is mesmerized. It’s not the beaming smile or thundering laugh that filled up the whole room he remembers from another life. It’s small. Intimate. Confidential.

 

* * *

 

“What if we went for a car drive instead of a walk today?” he suggests one morning. “I could drive us further down the coast,” he adds, tentatively.

  
Thor stops mid-bite. He thinks for a moment. “Sounds good. We could… we should set out earlier as well,” he says, which doesn’t make sense if they’re going by car, but Bruce is not going to question it. They finish the rest of their breakfast in silence and clean up after themselves. Together, as usual, crammed in the small space, but not complaining. They fall asleep on the couch after a particularly puzzling reading session. Turns out Allspeak is useless against modernist poetry.

Bruce is shaken awake, confused, “What is going on?” It’s dark outside.

  
“We overslept, we overslept,” he hears Thor. Panicking.

  
“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Bruce reaches for him and reassures, “that happens. We’ll just go tomorrow. Or we don’t have to go at all. We can take a walk like we always do.” Thor’s attempts to catch his breath like he’s been running a marathon is the only sound in the room. It’s deafening.

  
“I really wanted to go.”

  
“I know.”

  
“I really wanted to.”

  
“It’s okay.” He turns on the coffee table lamp. He catches a glimpse of their copy of _The Hobbit_. It’s become a staple. He looks at Thor and sees traces of tears on his face, dried. “Hey, what were the names of all the dwarves in Thorin’s company again?”

 

* * *

 

Spring is approaching. If it wasn’t for the calendar or the weirdly accurate way of processing the passage of time Asgardians possess, it would be hard to tell simply according to the sky or weather alone in the past three years. The sky promises a hint of blue and implies the existence of the Sun. Bruce dares to believe it.  
One weekend, they attempt something akin to spring cleaning. Thor usually keeps the house pristine, but lately, both of them have been guilty of neglecting some chores in favor of long hikes in the day, trying to find evidence to prove Bruce’s Sun hypothesis.  
Thor suggests they should get thousands of buckets of paint and colour each brick of the cottage differently, claiming in defense, “We will never settle on just one.” They agree to postpone this conversation for some other day.  
As a reward for their spring cleaning efforts, they get in the car and drive further on the coast than usual. Not that they do it often, anyway. Bruce hasn’t been able to borrow the pickup on a regular basis as of late, besides for running errands. And they do prefer walking. But it’s a special occasion after all.  
They park the car near a beach. The air is slightly chilly, but it’s not bothering either of them. They sit down, side-by-side, knees touching. They watch the waves.

  
“About that paint-,” Bruce begins to say.

  
“Why would you bring it up now, such a nice moment…,” Thor whines.

  
“No, listen, I was thinking. Picture this: blue. A big yellow orb in the middle of the door.”

  
Thor considers it for a while. Then it hits him.

 

"So we can stop the chase?"

  
“We can stop the chase.”

  
They are silent. Then Thor nods. “It’s going to look ugly, probably.”

  
“Didn’t say it wouldn’t.”

 

The evening grows colder. They are huddled closer. Their hands intertwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell at me on twitter @pizzavengers


End file.
